


Double, Double, We're in Trouble

by Elfstone



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Female Kíli, Female Thorin Oakenshield, M/M, Magic, Male Tauriel, Multi, Werewolves, different magical creatures, warlock!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfstone/pseuds/Elfstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins was a warlock discovering his potential. Thraís Durin was the alpha of a werewolf pack that seeks to reclaim her kingdom from a dragon. Their company braves trolls, a riddling creature, faeries, niece-stealing nixes, and countless others.</p>
<p>Now if only the magic would stop tingling at this fingertips whenever he looked at Thraís.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Journey Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I don't write fanfiction a lot and I don't have anybody proof reading so...yeah. I'm sort of doing this for NaNoWriMo with my friend because I need to write something for once. Please be kind. And also I really can't title things.

In the city of Bree one sees many things out of the ordinary that are surprisingly ordinary. This small city in the western region of Eriador had the reputation of being inhabited by multiple races. Walking down the cobblestone and dirt streets one could see the odd witch or warlock, vampires lounging in the shaded areas, waiting out the sunlight, and then the occasional pack of werewolves passing through on their journeys east or west to small settlements in the Blue Mountains. It was in this city that adventures were launched and it was in this city that one Bilbo Baggins, son of the famous witch Belladonna Took—of the Took Family, one of the richest and most adventurous clans in the Shire—and the gentle-warlock Bungo Baggins—yes, of the Bagginses, the rich, influential, and ever-so polite family that were well known and very well respectable—readied himself, gathering ingredients for potions that would serve him well (hopefully) on this nonsense adventure that an old family friend was keen on dragging him on. 

This old family friend, a friend to his mother and to his grandfather in his youth, who lived to an astounding age of 130, was positively ancient and was rumored to be far more than the wizard he claimed to be. Gandalf, for that was the name he was known by to the simple folk of the rolling green hills of the Shire, was a wandering wizard and made several appearances in Bilbo’s youth with his myriad of fireworks and wiz poppers that lit up the sky in colors that would dance in young Bilbo’s dreams and later in his adulthood were he would, in his own words, “help further and tutor” Bilbo in his magical education. It was during a session of “tutoring” that Gandalf decided that it was high time that Bilbo Baggins was becoming a bit too much like his respectable father and needed to tap into the wild blood his mother had passed to him. It was time for Bilbo Baggins to go on an adventure. 

“Meet me in Bree a week hence at an inn known as the Prancing Pony,” Gandalf said, gathering his grey coat in his arms from where it rested on the coatrack. Earlier in the day he had drilled Bilbo on his knowledge of lore, spells, and potions, after they had a particularly rigorous set of spells, from simple tricks to picking locks to the more complex ones such as transfigurations. Bilbo had invited the man for luncheon and that was when Gandalf explained his purpose. See, Gandalf had been grooming Bilbo for some time, readying him for the quest that had been brought to Gandalf’s attention some years ago (and with the wizard a few years ago could mean anything from a decade to perhaps even a century). It was on this quest that the company would require a set of skills that only Bilbo himself would have, skills that Gandalf had taught him and encouraged that he learn from a young age. 

Naturally Bilbo felt many things at this slight confession. There was anger that Gandalf would never tell him what all the years of magic lessons were truly about. (Did his mother know this? Surely his father didn’t, if he did visits from the grey-clad wizard would have been significantly reduced.) There was betrayal, disappointment, and, to Bilbo’s surprise, a bit of excitement. Maybe it was his Tookish nature that was deep in his blood that made him curious about this quest that Gandalf felt the need to handpick him for. Did it lead to lands far away? Would he encounter other races than the other witches and warlocks that he always passed and nodded his head in cordial greeting to? The thrill of it all threatened to send a shudder through his very bones but his tongue and his anger got the better of him. 

He quipped, “And should I not come along?”

“It is not a matter of should or would, you will. It is your very nature and you cannot deny your very blood. You cannot spend your entire life in the Shire, Bilbo; your spirit is too powerful, too adventurous to have you here all your life though you try to hide it and contain it with your books and armchairs. I shall see you in Bree at the Prancing Pony, Bilbo. Remember, a week hence!” With that he started his engine, flourished a wave, and drove off to wherever Gandalf found himself after his little visits. 

This is how Bilbo Baggins found himself in Bree after a week of brewing potions and stocking up for his adventure (and with that word he shuddered—was it excitement from his Took side or the horror of it all from his Baggins?). 

The Prancing Pony was easy enough to find, the sign and the name were distinct enough. In the bar there sat many patrons of mixed races. At the bar sat a band of men deep in their cups, their cheeks flushed and warm, laughing and making merry as they sang, they must have been sirens of some sort because those around them were drawn to them, sharing in their joy and joining in on their fun. There were others, a group of men and women of varying ages, some appeared too young to be in a bar in Bilbo’s opinion, which stood apart from the merrymaking, a solemn air around them as they stared into their tankards. A man in a strange hat appeared to want to join in but a rotund man with an impressive beard appeared to hold him steady. 

Bilbo looked for Gandalf and found him walking from the bar to him, two tankards in hand. He came up to him, handing one of the tankards to him. He ushered Bilbo to the group that lingered in the back of the bar. 

“Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce you to the company I mentioned to you. This, my dear Bilbo, is the Company of Thraís Durin.”

One from the table rose, a woman with long dark hair, silver veining her tresses. Her features were elegant and regal; her nose was long and her jaw strong. Her eyes were glacial and pierced him but it was not her cool, indifferent yet calculating glance that sent a shiver through his spine and magic tingle in his fingers—no, the surge of power that rushed through his body and quite literally made sparks dance between his fingertips was caused by something entirely different. Bilbo Baggins found himself completely and quickly enamored with the woman before him. 

It was then that he realized the situation he found himself in. He, a simple warlock that would supposedly assist this company with his skill set, was standing next to a wizard while he stood in front of a pack of werewolves. 

What the hell was he doing here? He was quick to voice this—

“Wizard, you told me that you would bring us a powerful warlock not a simple potion brewer.”

—or not. 

“Now, Thraís, give Bilbo a chance to prove himself and you will find that he is quite useful.” Gandalf was trying to diffuse the situation and it appeared to have somewhat success.   
All eyes turned to Bilbo, thirteen pairs appraising and studying and in some cases marveling (the younger ones must never have seen a warlock before, let alone on that stood at 5’6” and had a riot of curls on his head, very unassuming and dissuading to any race other than those in his hometown.). 

Thraís came around the table to circle him and he felt suddenly that he was being inspected, dissected and evaluated by a fierce predator—and that she was. Werewolves were known to be more towards the violent side, they could be rowdy and reckless and at times, when the moon was right, they lashed out, inflicting their self-proclaimed curse onto those unfortunate enough to be within arm’s reach. However Bilbo was not afraid, he watched as the beautiful woman eyed him. He knew what he appeared, compared to her he was sort and he had not the lean and/or muscled forms of the pack in front of him. Bilbo was a man of shorter stature with eyes that shifted colors at a moment’s notice—something he inherited from his mother’s family—and a fuller frame. 

It was but a moment that Thraís looked him over. She turned to Gandalf and gave him a quick, “He’ll do,” before sitting again, her eyes still lingering on Bilbo. There was something there, something that Bilbo couldn’t identify but the tingle of magic still jumped across his fingertips and his veins were warmed with it.   
There was a lull, quickly extinguished by Gandalf’s cheerful, “Well! Here, Bilbo, let the Company introduce themselves to you. You will find they can be quite a merry gathering and pleasant company.”

Suddenly there was a surge as the Company fought over each other’s volume to let themselves be heard. Individually they stood and shook his hand: Gloin, a lycan sporting an impressive red beard, introduced himself and his hard-of-hearing brother, Oin; then came brothers Bofur, the man with the hat, and large Bombur and their cousin Bifur, who only grunted (“He can’t really speak no more, took an injury to the head, hit with a silver bullet he was and lived,” whispered Bofur.); Balin was a kindly man with a large white beard that forked at the end and his younger brother, Dwalin, was a terrifying mass of a man with a mohawk of all things; Dori had a pale look to him, soft colored eyes and silver hair immaculately braided, and with him came red haired brother and much younger sister, Nori and Ori; and finally came blond Fili and Kili, a young girl with unruly black hair that went where it pleased, who were Thraís’s nephew and niece.

“Now comes the time for the purpose behind our meeting. Balin, you have a more private location secured I hope, yes?” Gandalf asked in a serious voice and hushed under the rowdy tavern noise.

They moved then, following Balin as he led them into one of the rented rooms in the inn that pack were using for the duration of their visit. It was one of the larger rooms, used by the Ri siblings that contained two large beds and a table and chairs placed under the window that let in the setting rays of the sun. The lights were switched on and the furniture moved to accommodate the influx of occupants. Gandalf sat in the chair by the window under the dying light and begun to spin the tale of their journey, 

“There was once a kingdom, far from in the east that was inhabited solely by lycans. It was ruled by a powerful line of kings and it had wealth from its depth, as the wolves had dug their dens deep and found gold, gems, the likes which were never seen! The line was blessed and the mountain held unimaginable riches, and the neighbors of this mighty kingdom shared in the wealth of the mountain. To the south rested the City of Dale governed by the Lord Girion and to the west was Greenwood the Great, the woodland home of different fey races. 

“Then the sickness came. The gold grew and grew and like a wound the sickness festered. This sickness, it was not of the body, no, it was of the mind and it plagued the king. In his ill state he hoarded his gold like a dragon and that is what it attracted. A dragon named Smaug, a great dragon of the North and the last of his kind. He descended upon the kingdom, his wings a hurricane bringing forth gale force winds, his breath wrought flames that scorched and seared. It was that day that the dragon came that the citizens of this once great kingdom were forced to flee lest they turn to ash. To Dale they could not go for it too had not been able to escape the flames, and to the Greenwood they looked to seek refuge yet could not—”

Thraís snarled, “That forest scum did nothing! My people were out there, suffering and homeless while those faeries live in their trees, safe and warm when my people starve!”

“Thraís Durin,” Gandalf thundered, the room darkened and Bilbo held his breath for rarely had he seen this power from the wizened wizard emerge, “you know not of what you speak! Darkness has fallen upon the Greenwood; the woodsmen have taken to calling it Mirkwood. All are suffering, not just your own people.”

Thraís sneered but remained silent after her outburst. Gandalf humphed but continued his story for Bilbo’s sake.

“The Greenwood could not take them so west they went to the settlements in the Blue Mountains. Now it is time for the mountain to be reclaimed. Erebor will be reclaimed by the wolves that carved those halls and the dragon shall be defeated.”

Bilbo stood in silence for some time before he found his voice again. “Where do I fit into this?”

“You, dear Bilbo, will be the one to defeat the dragon,” Gandalf said as he relaxed into his chair and smiled.

It was then that Bilbo Baggins fainted for the first time in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A journey begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha so yeah I finally continued this after almost a year. It's not my best but I tried and I have no idea how to really write despite it being my dream to create stories. Please be kind to me because I found my old notes that are being updated and have a new computer that I'm still getting the hang out. Things might be edited later--except for the first chapter.   
> I love the first chapter.

Coming to, Bilbo overheard someone say, “Well you didn’t have to say it like that.”

A laugh, most definitely Gandalf’s, “He’ll be fine; he’s coming around right now. Good afternoon, Bilbo!”

With a groan Bilbo sat up and noticed a face, the girl named Kili, barely inches from his own. He most certainly did not yelp as he scrambled backwards away from her. She gave an almost feral grin before saying, 

“Good thing you woke up when you did, we were about to start taking bets!”

“Kili!” Her aunt scolded. There she stood, away from her pack that clustered around Bilbo who still lay sprawled on the floor. From this angle she looked even more beautiful—her nose as sharp and as fierce as the expression in her eyes. The lights from above illuminating the silver in her hair, giving it almost a heavenly glow, and if Bilbo wasn’t embarrassed from his little fainting spell than he would have most certainly been embarrassed by this train of thought that seemed to derail every time he gazed upon the pack’s alpha. 

There goes the tingling in his fingers again, and luckily no one is the wiser of it. Now if only he could figure out why his spine shuddered and his cheeks grew hot and his fingers sparked—oh no. No. He was most certainly not attracted to this goddess of a woman, thank you. He was just experiencing embarrassment from the faint, yes, that was it. 

“Now, Bilbo my boy, are you ready to sign the contract?” What was that batty old Gandalf going on about. Contract? Surely this alleged contract did not have anything to do with the horrid dream that he had the few minutes he was unconscious. The dream that involved a lycan kingdom in the east that was overran by a fire breathing drake from the North. That was just a dream, please don’t make him do it, Gandalf. 

“No, I’m not signing any contract—I’m not going to go on some…some fruitless journey for a harebrained scheme that will end with me burnt to a crisp. Now if you’ll excuse me”—he picked himself from off the floor, brushed off dirt from his clothes, imaginary or otherwise, and headed to the door— “I’m going home.”

As he marched to the door he heard someone muttered “figures” under their breath but elected to ignore it. No Baggins has ever gone on such a foolish journey and/or had to face down a dragon all for the sack of one pack of werewolves. Bilbo was a Baggins   
of Bag End and that is exactly where he belonged. He belonged in his childhood home that was lovingly crafted by his father as a gift to the love of his life, one Belladonna Took, with his armchairs and books. 

When he left the Prancing Pony dread settled in his gut. This had to have been what Gandalf had been preparing him all his life for. All the countless hours spent tutoring and studying, this is what he has been building up for. His very own adventure. And Thrais…he couldn’t just forget about her and continue on with his life, not when he just discovered her. And…and while he was heading back to his warm, family home there was an entire race displaced from their ancestral home. He wasn’t completely selfish and cold hearted. He was passing to the city gates now, on his way home to the Shire when suddenly his stopped. 

“Oh screw it,” he muttered and turned around, breaking out in a brisk walk as to not jostle the potions and brews in his pack. 

By the time the Prancing Pony was again in sight he started from his brisk walk into an all-out sprint. As he reached the door, fingertips brushing against the doorknob, the door suddenly whipped open and Bilbo found himself standing face-to-face with the Company of Thrais Durin. From his place in the back of the assembled crowd he saw Gandalf smile—or was it a smirk?

“I’ve—I’ve changed my mind,” he stuttered. “I’m going to join your Company and sign the contract. You’ll be needing a warlock and if Gandalf thinks I’m the one for this adventure then that’s what I’ll be—your warlock, that is.”  
He stood there huffing as the Company looked to one another. Thrais’ eyes burned into his very soul and his blood and the magic in it was starting to spark and sing. Finally, she opened her thin mouth and said, “Balin, give him the contract and a pen, we’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

She started then, to storm off, muttering something about renting some vehicles as Dwalin followed loyally behind his alpha. Within moments the two disappeared and not a trace of a Mohawk or beautiful woman could be found. 

A tap on his shoulder alerted him to Balin and the contract. “Here you are, lad,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Bilbo felt his palm start to sweat and his heart race in both fear and excitement. There was no time to waste and with a flourish of magic and a flick of his wrist his signature was on the contract, glowing slightly on the paper. 

It took a few hours but by the time Dwalin and Thrais returned they had with them one large bus-like van that somehow could fit all fifteen of them on it. Bilbo inhaled deeply and could smell the charms placed on the vehicle—so that’s how they did it. The charm would allow to the van to look like relatively small all while having a spacious interior. When they pulled up Kili and her brother (Fili?) both yelled shotgun at the same time and raced to the passenger door, yet the current passenger—their aunt—refused to move. 

“Aw, com’on, auntie,” Kili whined. Their aunt gave them a hard stare before both gave a small pout and clambered into the back of the van. This was shaping up to be a long ride for Bilbo and the trip had yet to begin. 

Gandalf came up to Bilbo and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Do you have everything?” 

Bilbo gave a hesitant smile and nodded. Honestly, he had been excited at the idea of an adventure when Gandalf first asked him and he had been prepared since his old family friend left. Not that he would admit it. 

Everyone fought for their seats in the van: Bofur climbing over everyone in attempt to get his favorite spot by the window, Bombur taking up two seat by his brother and cousin with his large girth, Dori making sure that his youngest sibling was comfortable by her place beside Fili before waspishly telling Nori to stop sitting on Bofur’s lap and find his own seat. All this time Bilbo waited for a seat to make itself present after all the chaos settled and he found one between Gandalf and Balin. Gandalf and Balin had identical twinkles in their eyes as they noticed that Bilbo’s seat just so happened to give him the best view of Thrais. 

After confirming that everyone was buckled and their gear was firmly stowed away, they started the van and took off.


End file.
